Wand Lore : A fanfic of the Dresden Files
by tarinaxthegrey
Summary: While staying at the Carpenters and trying to learn how to be a father, Dresden and company are attacked by a mysterious stranger who has a pair of Obscurials with him - whatever the hell those are. He also rescues and auror from the Ministry if Magic, and the two of them must make nice and track down the warlock controlling the Obscurials.


Dresden/Potter Crossover Fanfic

Takes Place in October of 2018

Directly After Skin Game

Synopsis - While staying at the Carpenter's with Maggie, Harry Dresden is attacked by a stranger with magical creatures he has never seen before. He rescues a fellow wizard from the attackers. A wizard from England with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Legal disclaimer: As much as I wish I owned Harry Potter and/or the Dresden Files, I don't. This is a fan fiction crossover that's just for fun, and not for any other purpose. Jim, Ms. Rowling, should you ever read this, please don't send legal goons, obscurials, or wardens after me. I hope my writing pays appropriate homage to both works. Oh, and sorry it's so long.

Chapter 1

This was hard. One of the harder things I had to do, and believe me I'm no stranger to hard things. My name is Harry Dresden. I'm a wizard of the White Council, a Warden of the Council, and the Winter Knight - the personal mortal assassin of Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness. I've fought ghouls, vampires, and warlocks. I've tangled with demons and outsiders, and Gentleman John Marcone, king of the mean streets of Chicago, and a freeholding baron under the Unseelie Accords. I've shot the shit with freaking Odin, and shared a glass of wine and a handshake with Hades himself. But this...this was impossible.

"Five seconds…" said the cab driver from the front seat.

I felt the eyes on me. Maggie, my 9 year old daughter. Thomas, my half-brother. And Mouse, my beast of a dog who was really more Maggie's than mine at this point, crammed into the very back of the cab with that somewhat dopey service dog getup around his massive, leonine mane. I couldn't blow this. I was on a mission, dammit, and I wouldn't fail my own flesh and blood. So without thinking about it anymore, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"1215!"

The cab driver was silent for a moment longer than comfort allowed, and I started to sweat.

"That's right!" said the bald man driving the cab excitedly. "The Magna Carta was indeed signed in 1215!" The built in lights flashed, and Thomas and Maggie clapped happily. I smiled for a second, but then felt my suppression spell slip a little. A few of the lights winked out, but I caught my grip on the spell quickly, and that was the extent of the damage. Technology and mortal magic don't play nicely together. I can blow out the electronics in one of these modern day cars without thinking much of it. When I actually try to pitch a hex, I tend to make technology blow up. Literally.

The Cash Cab came to a stop outside of the Field Museum of Natural History. I didn't have TV for much of my life, owing to my difficulties with tech. But ever since I had been staying with the Carpenters I had been working to perfect a suppression spell for my ambient magic, so as not to force Michael to have to worry about too much home upkeep. Ever since he had been shot nearly to death on Demonreach by a Denarian Knight, he had a harder time getting around. His getting shot had been my fault, and I was damned if I was going to make life any harder on him or his family. After all, they had taken care of my daughter for me for a number of years. They were good people in every sense of the word. Long story short, I watch a little more TV now. One show Maggie and I both really like is Cash Cab. We cheer when people nail particularly tricky questions, and laugh hysterically when people end up in left field. I'm sure there will be some people at home laughing at me when this goes on the air.

Ben Barnes, the jovial host of the show, turned to us with his trademark good-natured smile.

"Alright, guys, we're here at the Field Museum. You've won $175 so far. Now you can take the money, or you can go double or nothing. What do you think? No shout-outs, no calls," he said.

I looked at Maggie next to me. She met my gaze and shrugged. Mouse was similarly opinion-less. Thomas, however, spoke up.

"C'mon Harry, go for it," he said.

"I don't know, Thomas. I mean, $175 is nothing to sneeze at," I said. He stared at me blankly. "Let me rephrase, $175 is nothing for normal people to sneeze at," I said.

"Look, what's the worst that could happen," Thomas said with his obnoxious supermodel smile.

"What's the worst that can happen, he says," I muttered under my breath as I watched the Cash Cab pull away. "Go for it, he says. Dammit."

"Aw, come on Harry, don't be sore about it. Nothing lost, nothing gained, right?" he said, chortling.

"You do remember what happened the last time I was here, right?" I said with a slight growl.

Thomas sobered up immediately. "Wait, have you been here since that last Halloween

where -,"

"Nope," I said, taking great pleasure at both interrupting him, and the look on his face. On Halloween night, a few years back, a group of necromancers tried pulling off a dark ritual that would have turned the one who succeeded into a god. They brought a ton of animated corpses with them. So rather than get torn apart by zombies, I got creative. Hey, Sue the T-Rex was just sitting there. No one was using her. And it doesn't break the law of magic regarding necromancy to reanimate a T-Rex skeleton and use it to rampage through a zombie army. Good times.

"Um, last time?" asked Maggie inquisitively, her little arms wrapped around her body.

Ah. Right. I had held back on telling her some of the more insane stories of my past. The poor kid had enough to deal with without hearing about fallen angels, necromancers, and other monsters. I may only have been doing the father thing full time for a few months, but I had found instincts I never realized were there. Besides, I wasn't even sure she would be a fully-fledged wizard herself. Kids often started displaying signs of the Art when they got near puberty. Sometimes their magic came to them when they were younger, but not usually. I had been waiting for it to happen though.

Magic can be tricky. Magically inclined children can be born to completely vanilla mortal parents. A lot of the time magic comes through the mother's bloodline. In some cases, it comes from the daddy. Maggie's mother Susan wasn't magically gifted. Not even in the slightest. Me, on the other hand. Well. I'm sure there are still some wardens who wake up in a cold sweat at night wondering if I'll ever go warlock. Many consider me to be among the top 20 or so wizards on the planet in terms of sheer magical horsepower. I can sling power around with the best of them, but I still lack the experience of the most powerful wizards of the council. That's not even taking into consideration my other sources of power. To save my daughter from the Red Court of Vampires, I accepted Mab's offer and became the Winter Knight. I could call on Winter at any time to either subsidize my magic, or to be a force all its own. I also had access to soulfire - the literal power of creation. I could use a bit of my soul as a matrix to make my magic more...substantial? Real? It didn't really turbocharge it. I just made it more. Taking all these things into consideration, I was waiting to see if Maggie would manifest any talent.

"Heh. Long story kiddo," I said, looking down at her. Maggie looked so much like her mother, but I could see aspects of myself in her. She was also shivering a bit in the cool October breeze. Oops. Maybe jeans and a t-shirt weren't the best choice, but I hadn't wanted to stifle her choices. Mouse sidled up next to her, blocking the wind. He looked up at the museum entrance, then back to us, and opened his mouth in a big doggy grin. His meaning couldn't have been more plain. There's fun stuff in there. And food. Food is good. I laughed and said, "Alright, shagasaurus. Let's go in. Thomas can pay!"

"Hey!"

Later that night, after I had read to Maggie, I joined Michael and Charity in the living room. Michael had gone from looking like he could bench press a truck to needing a cane to walk. But he looked much happier. Not getting called to all the corners of the Earth to answer calls from on high had given Michael a sense of peace. Charity still maintained her toned physique over the years, but she was showing more silver in her blonde hair and sporting a few more wrinkles on her face. Both looked content.

"Harry," Charity said amiably as I walked into the living room. "How did Maggie like the museum?"

"Oh, it was great. She loved it. Sue especially was a big hit," I said as I sank down into a chair.

"You're doing a fine job, you know," Charity said soberly. "I can see it on your face every time you look at her. You're afraid you're not doing it right. You are."

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, my voice a little strained. "I wasn't there for the first years of her life. I want to do right by her."

"You are, Harry," said Michael, smiling. "You-." He was interrupted by a loud cracking noise from outside, which was immediately followed by another loud crack, a hideous shrieking sound, and violent flashes of light through the windows. I was on my feet immediately. Charity hopped up, while Michael got to his feet a bit more slowly. The three of them could hear the sounds of feet hitting the floor from upstairs.

"The children," Michael said urgently, looking at his wife.

"And you. You're not in any condition to fight," said Charity bluntly. "I won't hear any arguments, Michael."

"She's right, Michael. I can't deal with whatever is going on if I'm worrying about you getting hurt too," I said through gritted teeth.

Michael sighed in resignation. I knew that no matter how happy he was to be retired, it still killed him to watch others go into danger for his sake. But he had paid his dues, and how it was his turn to be protected. He and Charity headed up the stairs, going room to room, waking all the children, while outside there were more flashes of light.

Suddenly, the night lit up as a force that I didn't recognize struck a barrier the angels had weaved together around the house. The energy discharge was incredible. The house shook. Pots and pans rattled on their hooks, pictures fell from the walls.

At this, Mouse came bounding down the stairs to stand by my side. I heard a shaky voice from the top of the stairs call out "Dad?"

"Maggie," I said, daring a glance up the stairs to her, "Go with Mister and Misses Carpenter. They'll keep you safe, ok?"

"But what about you?" she wailed, desperately struggling against little Harry, the youngest of the Carpenter clan.

"I'll be fine!" I called back with a ton more bravado and confidence than I actually had. "Look, I've got Mouse with me. It'll be ok, kiddo, but I need you to go with Michael and Charity right now!"

She whined and struggled a bit more, crying and calling to both me and Mouse. I looked down at him, thinking it would be much better if he went with her. He looked up and fixed me with a blunt dog stare, kind of like those angry husky pictures on the computer. Memes? Little Harry had been trying to explain the concept. I didn't get it. But I got Mouse's message loud and clear. Maggie is safe. You need my help. I'm not leaving you. So I nodded, opened the front door, and strode out into the chaos.

Chapter 2

I stepped outside, my will prepared and channeled into my new magical arsenal. The runes on my new staff glowed, along with those I had carved into a new blasting rod. My pentacle necklace, my object of faith in magic, glowed with a pale blue light, the ruby gem set at the center reflecting it. On my wrist hung my new shield bracelet. I had remade it based on my last design. Woven metal, mostly silver, with shield shaped charms made of silver, copper, iron, nickel, and brass. This new bracelet could stop almost anything that could be thrown at me. Beside me, Mouse growled softly, motes of blue light gathering around his jaws, and saint elmo's fire gathering around his legs. A man lay in the yard, just inside the white picket fence. His face was covered in blood and burns, and he wasn't moving. I couldn't tell if he was alive or not, but I had more immediate concerns.

On the sidewalk stood a tall, thin man, He had hard, severe features, a wrinkled face, steel grey hair, and dead, soulless eyes. The vile energy pouring off the man was palpable. In his hand he carried a wand. A warlock. I immediately leveled my blasting rod at him, its tip burning with white hot fire.

"I wouldn't were I you," he said in a smooth, british accent. "Lest you harm these young ones."

I lowered my rod slightly as he waved his wand, and two children, freaking children, appeared next to him as he dispelled the veil that had been hiding them. They couldn't have been more than seven or eight. They had sunken eyes that looked terrified, and they were dressed in dirty, raggedy clothing.

"You son of a bitch," I snarled. "Using kids. Hell's bells, what is it with you people?"

He laughed a pompous and highly disturbing british laugh. "These...kids... as you so eloquently put it, are so much more than that. You are a wizard, and yet you don't recognize an Obscurial when one is before you?"

Obscurial? I thought to myself. What the fuck is that? The confusion must have been apparent on my face, because the man laughed his evil laugh again.

"Poor child. Were you not accepted into a magical academy? I suppose the Salem institute is a bit far from here, but surely in a city such as this, there is somewhere comparable to Durmstrang or Hogwarts?" he said snidely.

I was really getting pissed at this point. The mantle of the winter knight was demanding the destruction of this intruder upon my territory, this threat against those I was sworn to protect, and it started feeding me observations that would lead to that end. The children were a liability to him, he will protect them. He is old, and likely in poor bodily condition, get in close and use your supernatural strength to break him. The children look sickly, a blast of Winter Ice will cripple them, and hinder him. I started reciting prime numbers to myself, bringing my considerable mental discipline to bear, and suppressed the violent voice of the mantle. I took a deep, steadying breath.

'Warlock," I said in a voice of authority. I was trying to go for Morgan, the Warden who had hounded me for most of my life. I got pretty close if I do say so myself. "I am a Warden of the White Council of Wizards, and on that authority, I demand your surrender. Stand down or face your destruction!"

The smile dropped from the intruder's face, replaced by an ugly look.

"White Council?" he spat. "You are impure scum, and you must be purged from this world." He looked down at the children, who both flinched at though he had hit them. He waved his wand at each of them, and they started screaming as though they were being tortured. Their eyes turned pure white, and I saw a distortion lashing out from both of them. The distortion wave hit a barrier of divine, angelic power, loosing a massive flash of blinding light and a horrific shriek. Both children were still screaming. I decided to take a risk and opened my Sight.

The Sight peels back the veil of the world, showing everything how it truly is. It's a terrible risk to take, because what you See stays with you, in perfect clarity, forever. I've Seen things that can break the psyche of an ordinary person. This...this would probably occupy a few dozen nightmares for the foreseeable future.

The children looked as though they were being tortured with every kind of nightmarish device imaginable. Their skin looked like it was going through a meat grinder, and psychic blood poured from the wounds. Their terror and suffering was so extreme, I could feel it myself. But I forced myself to look beyond it. At their core, where their hearts should have been, was a void. No, not a void. A creature of the most pitch black coloring, so black that I couldn't define it. It was insane. It lashed out in various directions, trying to claw its way out of the children's chests. I could see it drawing in magical force from the children with the pleasure of an addict getting a fix. I closed my Sight and tried to force the images from the forefront of my thoughts.

The intruder waved his wand again, and the children stopped screaming and thrashing. The distortions ceased eventually.

"What magic is this?" he demanded.

"That's the power of angels, bitch!" I screamed. I raised my blasting rod and poured my will into it. The children were too far gone. I've seen victims of black magic with less severe psychic injuries never recover. These kids reminded me of Renfields: mortals who had their minds so crushed and destroyed by psychic assault that their consciousness shattered and they became little more than raging, violent psychopaths. Whoever this guy was, he was strong. And he was dead.

"Fuego!" I screamed, and a bolt of blue-white flame erupted from the tip of my blasting rod. The intruder stepped forward and slashed at the air with his wand. He managed to dispel a good portion of the blast, but enough made it through to-

That same distortion lashed out from the children, but this time the children became engulfed in black smoke. My fire met with the distortion and stopped, flaring out in different directions. The intruder took this opportunity. He pointed his wand at me and shouted "Sectumsempra!". I raised my shield in time to catch the curse he had fired. I saw thin lines of magic slash across my shield.

"Not cool," I growled. "Ventas Servitas!" I called, and sent a blast of wind infused with Winter at the intruder, who spun his wand and shouted "Protego!" But it wasn't enough. I had infused this spell with a tiny portion of Soulfire, which made the spell that much harder to defend against. Even the two little monsters, I couldn't keep calling them children after what I had Seen, couldn't turn the blast away with whatever magic they were using. All three of them were blasted from their feet. I recoiled, my head in searing agony. My vision blurred, and I couldn't call my magic for a minute. The intruder was up again, readying another spell. He jabbed his wand at me and yelled "Avada Kedavra!" I flung myself out of the way at the last instant, and a pulse of green light hit a bush in front of the house, blackening it instantly. I looked stupidly at it for a moment, unable to order my thoughts. I looked back at him, seeing him raise his wand-

-only to get tackled by Mouse. The super pooch had charged the intruder as soon as he saw the shape I was in. He dodged out of the way as the two little monsters attacked him with their power. He leaped back next to me, crouched, ready to attack again, but held as he looked behind the intruder.

I looked as well and started to laugh a crazy, maniacal laugh.

"Game over, man. Game over," I said drunkenly.

"What are you prattling on about, you insolent fool," he demanded.

"Look behind you," I said.

He turned and saw the silhouette of a small man with a shock of black hair and thick glasses. In his hand he held what looked like the wooden handle to a sword, with a shard of metal sticking out.

"I think it's time you left," said Sir Butters, the newest Knight of the Cross.

"And if I refuse?" taunted the stranger.

In response, Butters raised his sword handle, and a blade of light hissed forth, Star Wars style. Butters spun Fidelacchius in a small figure of eight, the blade humming and thrumming with power. The intruder looked very uneasy, being confronted by the Sword of Faith. He lowered his wand, said "Come" to the monster children creatures, and spun as they touched him, disappearing with that same loud Crack as before.

I sighed in relief and tried to collect myself. I had thought about what could happen if I mixed the power of the Winter Mantle with Soulfire, but I hadn't expected such a backlash. I needed to get to the bottom of that, because Soulfire was one of my biggest advantages.

"Harry!" called Butters. "This guy is still alive. We've gotta help him."

"Are you crazy, Butters? We have no idea who he is. For all we know, he's in with the other one!" I yelled.

Butters looked at the unconscious man on the ground for a moment, nodded, and said, "He isn't."

I sighed in exasperation. "How do you know? How can you?"

Butters looked at me, and simply said, "Faith."

Well, shit.

I laid the unconscious man down in Daniel Carpenters old bed, as Charity brought her enormous first aid kit. She and Butters got to work. The unconscious guy had more severe lacerations than I cared to count. Charity cleaned them while Butters broke out the suture kit and went to work. Michael, Mouse, and I went to put the kids back to sleep, then went downstairs to wait.

After a good two hours of work, they had him sutured, sedated, and IV running, and came downstairs to join us.

"He's a mess, but he'll be alright," said Butters. He had worked up a good sweat. Butters chose to cut up corpses for the county medical examiners office because working with living patients was disturbing for him. I had asked a lot of him over the years. He had taken care of me after I nearly lost my hand during a battle with black court vampires, along with various other injuries. Now, though, Butters had a new strength to him. A faith. Just like he knew that the stranger upstairs meant us no harm, I knew he was becoming the Knight he was Called to be. Wielding a Sword will do that to you.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "You really came through for us Butters, in pretty much every way. Thanks," I managed to get out. I was still exhausted and nursing a whopping headache. "Did he have anything on him?"

"Just these," said Charity. She held out some kind of badge along with a wand.

"Huh," I grunted, taking the wand. As I turned it in my hands and extended my senses towards it, I felt resistance coming from it. Like it realized it wasn't with its rightful owner and didn't like that one little bit.

"Anything written on the badge, Charity?" I asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. It says 'Ministry of Magic, London. Auror Harry Potter'. I've never heard of this Ministry of Magic, have you Harry?" she asked.

"Nope. Never. I thought the White Council was the only governing body for wizards," I said. This was getting more confusing by the minute. I stood up, regretting it instantly as my head started to throb. I sat back down, shaking, my head in my hands.

"I've gotta make some calls," I choked out. "I'll be outside," I said as I got up much more slowly and stumbled out the front door and sat in one of the chairs on the porch. An instant later, I realized I wasn't alone. I glanced up and saw him. Mister Sunshine. The Archangel Uriel, in his innocent youth disguise.

"Mister Sunshine," I said with a groan.

"Mister Dresden," he replied. "I thought you might be seeking counsel."

"What was your first clue?" I snarked.

"The fact that I've been hearing you call to me for hours," Uriel replied, taking a seat next to me. "You mixed Winter with Soulfire," he said, a statement rather than a question.

"Will I be alright?" I asked, abandoning all pretense. I had too much going on at the moment to not be blunt.

"Yes," said Uriel slowly. "But I wouldn't make a habit of this. Sidhe power and Divine power are not meant to mix. Doing so can be extremely dangerous."

"How dangerous?" I asked.

"I don't know. Never has a mortal possessed both the mantle of Winter and Soulfire simultaneously," he said. "Using them separately should be safe, as your mantle is not bound into your soul, but mixing them...I don't know what those consequences would be. You would do well to remember this."

I stared at him for a full minute before responding. "You're an archangel. You gave me this power. You know everything about it, but you don't know this?" I asked. There may have been a little desperation in my voice.

Uriel looked at me soberly. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said, standing. "You truly are unique in more ways than one. I bid you farewell."

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. I sat on the porch for several minutes, thinking. Breaking down like that in the middle of a fight couldn't happen again. Uriel's advice lacked the specifics I was hoping for, but at least he was of the opinion I could still use Soulfire if I needed to, so I could take that to the bank.

The front door opened, and Michael stuck his head out.

"Harry, our guest is awake," he said.

Time to go to work.

Chapter 3

I walked into Daniel's bedroom just as the stranger was coming to. He looked around in a very confused manner, squinting his eyes. Butters took his glasses from the nightstand and handed them to the stranger, who accepted them with a nod of thanks.

"Let's start off with the most important parts first," I said. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter. My name is Harry Potter. I'm an Auror with the Ministry of Magic. Where am I?" Potter asked.

"You're in Chicago. United States, you know, just in case…" I said, my smart-assiness level rising in accordance with the situation.

"Yeah, got that, thanks," said Potter. "What is this thing in my arm?" he asked, gesturing to the IV.

"I told you already," said Butters with the air of someone who had not only explained something painfully obvious about a dozen and a half times, but was willing to patiently do so again, "It's pumping fluids and antibiotics into your body."

"I just...you said he was a wizard," said Potter, pointing at me. "Can't he just using a healing charm?" he asked.

I laughed at that one. "Hell's bells, man. You don't want me trying to use healing magic on you. I'd probably give you cancer or something like that," I said.

"Erm...what?" Potter asked.

"You know, cancer? Kills a ton of people? Probably some cure locked in the basement of the CDC?" I said.

"Harry," Butters chided me, looking slightly annoyed.

"Sorry Butters," I said.

"Look, I've had enough of this. Who are all you people?" Potter demanded. "And where's my wand?"

"This?" asked Charity, holding a thin wooden wand, similar to the one carried by the dick that so rudely interrupted my evening.

Potter's face harded. "Give me my wand, please, ma'am," he said. I couldn't miss the nervous tone of his voice. He was scared. I looked from the wand to him, and it dawned on me.

"You can't cast spells without that wand, can you?" I asked quietly.

Potter glanced at me, the momentary look on his face telling me everything I needed to know.

I nodded.

"Listen, we aren't going to harm you in any way, unless you give us reason to. Understand, though, that my daughter lives in this house, and I will protect all the children here as if they were my own, got it?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Alright. My name is Harry Dresden. I know, two Harrys, right? I'm a wizard and warden of the White Council. This is Michael and Charity Carpenter, this is their home. This is Dr. Waldo Butters, county medical examiner and Knight of the Cross. And this is Mouse. My saber-tooth lionbeardog." Mouse chuffed at that.

Potter stared at Mouse for a moment before saying, "I bet Hagrid would love you," to Mouse. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dresden, but I've never heard of this White Council, and I don't know what a warden is."

"Um, basically I hunt Warlocks. You know, dark wizards who have violated one of the laws of magic," I said, relieved when his face seemed to light up.

"You're an Auror? That's me as well," Potter said. "I work for the Ministry of Magic, but it seems you don't know what that is either."

"Nope. Sorry," I said, sighing. "We need to make a call. You feeling ok?" I asked him.

"I think so. I'm not sure about this IV thing though. I've never had muggle medicine before," he said. "Just potions and healing charms."

"Well, we've got the good stuff here. Butters has connections. C'mon, Harry Potter. Let's make a phone call," I said.

"I'm sorry, what?" said the voice at the other end of the speaker. The connection was fuzzy and cracking with static. Totally not me. Suppression spell for the win. But I was a, talking to Scotland, and b, talking to another wizard. Specifically, Anastasia Luccio, Captain of the Wardens.

"An Obscurial. I've never heard of it, but it's tough. My strongest shots barely made a difference. I'm only alive because a Knight of the Cross just happened to show up and run them off," I said.

"Sorry, Harry. But I'm not familiar with that term. I've never heard of it, or the Ministry of Magic, or Aurors. Certainly not this Harry Potter. No offense intended, Mr. Potter," Luccio said.

"Er, none taken. I'm just as lost as you are, Captain Luccio," Harry responded. "I've never heard of the White Council."

"Let's worry about the important parts first. This man, you're sure he was a Warlock, Dresden?" Luccio asked.

"Completely. I've never seen anything like it. When I used the Sight on the child, it looked like a Renfield. But there was something else there. Something evil," I said.

"An Obscurial is the name given to a young witch or wizard who tries to suppress their magic due to abuse," Harry said. I turned my head slowly to look at him.

"You think that might have been helpful before?" I asked, a little annoyed.

"Sorry, I suppose it may have been," Harry said.

"Captain, did you get that?" I asked. No answer. "Captain?"

"Warden Dresden," said a cultured, sonorous voice. "I wish I could say this is a pleasure."

"Oh, shit," I breathed. "Honored Merlin. How, um…" I trailed off. Arthur Langtry, the Merlin of the White Council, was the single most capable wizard on the planet. I may have been the Winter Knight, and a really powerful wizard in my own right, but the Merlin had both power and experience in spades. I couldn't match him, and I certainly didn't want to piss him off by making a smart ass remark.

"Let's leave it at that, Dresden. My patience with you, as ever, is thin. Why are you involving yourself with the Ministry of Magic?" he asked bluntly.

"Merlin, I don't even know what the Ministry of Magic is. I was attacked by a Warlock outside of the home of Michael Carpenter. He had two Obscurials, he called them, with him. I'm just trying to figure out what is going on. That's the truth," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

"Erm, sir? Merlin? This is Harry Potter. I'm an Auror with the Ministry of Magic. I've been tracking this dark wizard that Dresden is talking about," Harry said, speaking up. "His name is Tobias Richter. He's guilty of the use of the unforgivable curses, as well as being in possession of an obscurial. The Ministry and the United States Magical Congress believe he has identified another potential obscurial somewhere in the American Midwest. I've been tracking Richter, trying to prevent him from making contact. As far as we know, he abducts children at risk of becoming Obscurials, tortures them, then puts them under the Imperius curse to keep them under control," said Potter.

"Imperius curse?" I asked.

"Total magical control of another person," Harry clarified.

There was a pause before the Merlin responded. "Mr. Potter, if this Warlock is under your jurisdiction, I would suggest you proceed with your pursuit. The White Council does not involve itself with your Ministry of Magic. Dresden, disentangle yourself from this situation immediately," said the Merlin. The line disconnected.

"Dammit!" I shouted in anger. My control slipped and the phone exploded in a shower of sparks.

"I take it your conversation with Luccio didn't go well," said Michael, leaning on his cane in the entryway to the kitchen.

"Um, the Merlin actually," I said. Michael looked surprised. "I know, right? No idea when the last time he actually used the phone. Sorry about yours. I wanted to punch the counter, but I'd probably put my hand through it, so…" I said.

"I appreciate that. I would actually need help replacing the countertop," Michael said. "What will you do, Harry?" he asked, looking at the other Harry.

"I suppose keep trying to find Richter," Harry said. "I don't know where he's gone now. I'll check in with the Congress and see if anyone knows where he's gone. Thanks for all your help," he said, wincing at he stood up.

"Wait," I said quietly. "You told Luccio that Obscurials are created when kids refuse to use their magic?"

"Mmm. But only when they make a conscious decision to suppress their magic because of physical or mental trauma," said Harry.

I was still worried. Maggie hadn't showed any inclination towards magic yet, but what if she had been suppressing it due to what she experienced at the hands of the Red Court? She had seen her family torn apart in front of her, and she had been carried off by the bastards. I always wondered whether or not she saw me kill her mother. Could she become one of these Obscurials? And if she did, how much damage could she cause? Were the Carpenters in danger? I mean, this Tobias Richter seemed like an Obscurial hunter, after all. Did he show up here by accident, running from Potter? Or was he hunting another obscurial in waiting? One that was sleeping upstairs right this moment?

"Harry? Dresden!"

"Huh?" I was shaken out of my thought process by Butters, who had come down after packing up all his doctoring tools and checking on the children.

"Sorry. I was asking what was up and what we need to do," said Butters.

"We?" I asked.

"Polka will never die, right?" he asked. I got the reference. Not long ago, Butters got his first call from up above. He had been thrust into battle with a supernatural baddie that was preying on kids in a hospital. At one point, he had lost faith in himself, and called me, begging for help. I had refused to help him, because he needed to see that he could stand on his own two feet. The 'polka will never die' mantra was something I had forced him to tell himself once, and it had helped. And now, here he was, ready to risk his life to help me.

Potter stared blankly at the two of us, started to ask a question, appeared to think better of it, and closed his mouth.

I smiled, and started to answer, but I was interrupted by the angelic guardian from earlier.

"Dresden, you have a visitor outside," he said, moving back to the living room and the big front window. I joined him and stared out the window for a full minute, my heart pounding, sweating bullets.

"This just got a lot more complicated," I said to no one in particular. Everyone came to my side and looked out the window at an indescribably beautiful woman with long hair like the purest snow, and a man dressed in an Armani suit. I couldn't see his eyes, but I know they would be the color of old dollar bills.

Chapter 3

I walked out of the house, Potter, Butters, and Mouse at my side.

"Remember, no gifts, no promises, basically don't talk at all, okay?" I asked my group as we approached.

"Queen Mab," I said, bowing. For the record, no, my voice was not a full octave higher than normal. The others followed suit a split second later. "Marcone," I grunted,sans bow

"Dresden," said Marcone quietly. Recently, the relationship between Gentleman John Marcone and myself had become a few dozen degrees colder. Not that it had ever been stellar, but he took it personally that a mission Mab had recruited me for had resulted in the death of one of his people. We had a very plain understanding now: we were each fair game to the other.

"My Knight," Mab said. "And Sir Knight of the Cross. The White God smiles upon you, it would seem," she said to Butters.

"Mab, Queen of Winter. It is an honor to meet you," Butters said.

"Rightly so," Mab responded. She turned her gaze to me. "My Knight. I have a job for you."

Shit.

When Mab had a job needing doing and she came to her Knight, it meant that the job was killing some mortal dead who pissed her off. Not what I needed right now.

"Ah. My queen, I beg thine indulgence, but wouldst thou allow me a small amount of time to...to…" I faltered, seeing the look of annoyance on her face.

I sighed. "Screw it. You want me to off someone. Who, where, when?" I asked. Something to note about me, my mouth sometimes forgets to check in with my brain before it starts snarking. This was one of those times. I really hoped, for my sake, that Mab took into consideration exactly who wore the mantle of Winter Knight. I was rewarded with a slight smirk, as opposed to a stiletto heel in my neck.

"My Knight. That is the type of response I expect from you," Mab said. "There is a mortal practitioner who has wronged the Baron," she said, gesturing to Marcone. "In accordance with the Unseelie Accords, I would like you to eliminate this usurper."

I looked at Marcone and bit back the first, second, third, and all the way to the ninety-something-eth comment I wanted to make, and settled for, "Baron?"

"There is a mortal practitioner in Chicago by the name of Tobias Richter. I know little about him, except that he has chosen to carry out his business in way that harms children. I cannot abide this, and so I have asked for Mab's involvement under the Accords," said Marcone. His voice was hollow. He always wore a dead behind the eyes look, but there was something else going on.

Damn. I hate Marcone. He preys on anyone and everyone who gets in his way. He rules the mean streets of Chicago through money and force. But that being said, God help the poor soul who victimizes a child in Marcone's territory. Those who did tended to go missing. It was the tiniest little bit of a soul Marcone had, but it was a part I could agree with.

"Richter?" blurted Potter. "The same dark wizard I'm after."

Marcone turned his eyes to Potter. "And you are?"

"Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic, London" Potter responded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I don't recognize that institution, either in name or authority," said Marcone coldly. "I want this man brought to justice under the Unseelie Accords, not your organization."

"Knight," said Man, before Potter could open his mouth to object. "You will eliminate this Tobias Richter. Unless this one wishes to strike a bargain for his life," said Mab, looking at Potter.

Potter looked from Mab to me. I didn't dare warn him. Doing so would ruin a potential deal for Mab, which would piss her off. That terrified me. So I just stared right back at Potter, keeping my face neutral, praying that he would remember what I told him.

"No, that won't be necessary," Potter said. "I just need to inform the Ministry of this development."

"A pity. I could grant you much, mortal," said Mab.

"My queen," I said. "I will eliminate this target on your orders. However, I need your assistance," I said.

Mab raised her eyebrow.

"It's a minor thing. The Merlin has ordered me to remove myself from this situation. I don't suppose you could, ah, explain the situation to him? You know, that your orders matter more to me than his?" I asked politely.

Mab looked at me for a solid minute without speaking. When she finally did, it was with an air of both annoyance and amusement.

"I can never decide whether you are truly oblivious, or take some sadistic pleasure in annoying me. But I shall deal with Langtry for you. Perhaps you would like a picture of his face afterwards?" asked Mab.

"No, I can use my imagination," I said without thinking.

Mab shook her head and started walking away. Marcone, who had been staring off into space, turned to follow her.

"Marcone," I said. He stopped.

"Is there any hope of recovering the children?" Marcone asked quietly.

"I doubt it. Whatever is going on with them...their minds are pretty far gone," I said.

He nodded and moved to follow Mab to the waiting limousine.

"Who was that?" Potter asked.

"No one you want to deal with," I said. "Let's get some sleep and pick up in the morning, Mr. Potter. You haven't lived until you've had one of Charity's omelettes."

"Nothing like that, no. Sorry, Harry," said Lt. Stallings, the commanding officer of Chicago P.D.s Special Investigations. It was a tiny, run down office. Karrin Murphy, my friend-slash-lover-slash-I don't even know, used to head the division. Rather than die under the pressure, she had retained the services of Chicago's only consultant wizard. Lately, what with having been mostly dead, I hadn't done any work for SI, but Stallings knew he could still call me if he needed to.

"Damn. Alright, thanks John," I said, shaking his hand. "But if you do get any reports, stay away. SI isn't up for this one," I said.

Stallings nodded. "I got you. Is that why you're travelling with your own little troupe? Wasn't that Waldo Butters? The ME?"

"Yep," I said. "Long story. So's the other guy," I said. Stallings took the hint and didn't press the issue any further.

"Good luck, Harry," he said.

"Yeah," I said, turning to the door.

I met up with Butters and Potter outside. They were having a conversation about the Sword.

"I've just never heard of anything like this," said Potter.

"Neither had I," said Butters. "But I'm getting used to it. It's an awesome responsibility, but it's worth it."

They both looked up as I approached.

"Anything?" asked Potter.

"Zilch," I said. "Means nothing," I clarified, noting Potter's confused look.

"Why are we waiting time with the muggle police? They can't help us find Richter," said Potter, clearly frustrated.

"Special Investigations deals with crap from our side of the street on a daily basis," I said. "Muggles, as you call them, can be helpful in situations like this. They're a lot more clued in to the supernatural world than anyone gives them credit for," I said.

Potter nodded. "Alright. Fine. We wait for the muggles. What do we do until then?" he asked.

I looked around. It was close to noon. Good time to refuel.

"C'mon Harry. Let's introduce you to more American fare," I said.

"What is this thing?" asked Potter, looking down at his table.

"A Whopper with cheese, fries, and a Coke," I said. Hail to the King, baby.

"Are you really this juvenile?" Potter asked.

"I am indeed," I said, taking a huge bite out of my own Whopper.

"Alright, we may as well try to learn something about each other. You use that staff in the car for magic? What's at its core? Dragon heartstring?" Potter asked.

"Um, no," I mumbled through a bite of burger. "My staff doesn't have anything at the core but wood. Same with this," I said, thunking my blasting rod on the table. Potter picked it up and examined it closely. "The runes help to focus my magic, make it more controlled. That's a tool for evocation. Fire magic, specifically," I said.

"Fire magic?" Potter asked. "I mean, I know some specific spells, but I get the feeling it's different for you."

"How is it for you? How do you cast spells?" asked Butters curiously. "I've seen Harry use his magic in all kinds of ways. He's even shown me a few basic spells."

"You? I thought you said you were a muggle," Potter said, surprised.

"Well, I'm not in Harry's league, or yours for that matter. But I can do a magic circle, and a basic tracking spell," said Butters.

"The magic I know doesn't work like that. At all. A witch or wizard has magic within them, and they channel it through a wand with a particular movement and a word to cast a spell," Potter said, putting his wand on the table. "My wand is made of holly, and it has a phoenix feather at the core. Our magic travels through the core, and the specific effect is created by the spell word," said Potter.

"Wait, there's a specific keyword to create a spell effect?" I asked. "With my magic, if I use a word too close to the effect I'm trying to get, it causes psychic feedback. Hurts like hell. So most wizards I know either use nonsense words, or at least words in another language," I said. Potter stared at me.

"Well, I wish it were that easy during OWLs and NEWTs," he muttered.

"Come again?" Butters asked.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests," he clarified. "Exams we had to take during fifth and seventh years at Hogwarts. Although I didn't end up taking the NEWTs, after I beat Voldemort. I reckon they didn't think I needed to."

"Right, the magic school," I said. "So you can't cast spells without a wand?"

"Not well, anyways. Most young witches or wizards end up using magic in some way unconsciously when their lives are threatened or when they get emotional about something," Potter said.

"Wow. How the hell is our magic so different?" I asked, munching on my food.

"No idea," said Potter, trying the burger.

"Hmm," he said after a bite. "That's not bad, actually."

Score one for Burger King. Take that, Europe.

"I've got a theory...maybe," said Butters. "Hang on." He pulled out a cell phone, one of those newer gadgets that was all one piece with the glass screen.

"Hang on, my suppression spell isn't up, Butters. I'm gonna fry your toy there," I said, sliding away from the device.

Butters gave me a sideways look, then opened his bag slightly, showing me a human skull, heavily carved with runes.

"Ah," I said, understanding. As Potter and I watched, orange motes of light drifted from Butters' bag and towards the phone. The screen lit up with a line of orange light, and Bob's voice came out of the speaker. The line bounced, making peaks and valleys as Bob spoke.

"You know, boss, you really ought to clean out that bag every now and again. Too stuffy in there," came the disembodied voice with a slight whine.

"Sorry Bob. I'll maybe get around to it sometime. I'm still trying to balance my two jobs," said Butters patiently.

"Yeah, yeah. You get to be Luke Skywalker, and I get crammed in a bag," complained Bob.

"Butters," I hissed. "Why are you carrying Bob's skull around? Stars and stones, man, you get that thing stolen, we're in trouble."

"Aw, relax, Harry," said Bob. "Ever since Butters became the new and improved Lightsaber weilding Butters the Knight of the Cross, not much is ballsy enough to go after him," said Bob cheerfully.

"Um, sorry," said Potter, "but what is that?"

"S'matter, England? Don't recognize a spirit of intellect when you see one?" asked Bob snidely.

Potter looked lost. Butters tapped the phone and said, "Manners, Bob. This is Harry Potter. He's a dark wizard catcher from the Ministry of Magic."

The orange light on the screen of the phone constricted to a single, thin line.

"Ministry of Magic, huh? I never thought I'd be seeing one of you again," said Bob.

"Erm, sorry?" said Potter, looking at Butters and I, who were both just as lost.

"So you know who he is?" I asked Bob.

"Yes," said Bob slowly. "I do, but I can't really talk about it. Not unless…" he trailed off. I sighed and reached into Butters' bag, taking the skull in my hand. I quickly withdrew it. The orange light on the phone changed colors ever so slightly to a different shade of orange, the shade it had been when Bob had sat on a shelf in my lab.

"Ok, then," he said.

"Bob, I'm giving you a direct order. Tell us everything you know about this Ministry of Magic, about Harry Potter's kind of magic and why it's so different from mine, and about Obscurials," I said.

Chapter 4

"Ok, we'll start with the basics. Magic is a spectrum, just like everything else these days, except, you know, for a hell of a lot longer. With certain wizards, the magic is closer to the surface and is bound to will. For others, it's buried deeper, and tied to knowledge. Harry Dresden is pretty much in the middle, but closer to the will end of the spectrum. It took you a lot of years of study to get as good as you are. Sorcerers are closer to the extreme of being near the surface. In Harry Potter's case, his magic is much deeper. This kind of magic requires a very, very specific focus to bring out. They use wands with cores from magical creatures, like unicorns, dragons, phoenixes, et cetera. His wand is the key to his magic," said Bob.

"Ok, so how does it work using a specific incantation to get a spell?" I asked. "You, Justin, Ebenezer, you all taught me to insulate myself from backlash by using nonsense or foreign words to get an effect," I said.

"Duh, Harry. Wizards like Potter might use a standardized list of spell words and gestures to get an effect, but they aren't using english words to get there. From what I know, most of their spells are some bastardized variant of Latin, with other flavors thrown in. Like Levicorpus, for example. Literally translates to something like "body lift", or close to it," said Bob. "Wizards like this are identified by their respective magical governments when they're born. Wizards like Harry Dresden though, they get passed over. They aren't considered practical enough."

"Seems kinda unfair if you ask me," I said.

"Very," said Potter. "Why is it that I never knew about this?"

"Because of your statute of secrecy," said Bob simply. "It was written during a time when magic and wizards were being persecuted and killed. Some wizards saw the inherent good of magic, and believed they could help the world with magic. Others believed they needed to isolate themselves from those without magic, the 'vanillas' as you call them Harry. The brits call them muggles, Americans call them no-majs, which if I do say so myself is such a stupid term. Thus, the grand split. Magic itself hasn't changed, just the study and practice of

it," said Bob.

"So the isolationists even separated themselves from wizards who didn't want to go along with them?" Butters asked.

"Yep. Anyone not meeting a very, very specific set of criteria are passed over by the Ministries and Congresses. They end up coming to their power, being found by the Wardens, and warned against breaking the seven laws," said Bob.

"Sorry, the seven laws?" asked Potter.

"Thou shall not kill through the use of magic," I said, holding up a finger for each law I named. "Thou shall not transform others. Thou shall not invade the mind of a mortal. Thou shall not enthrall a mortal. Thou shall not practice necromancy relating to humans. Thou shall not swim against the currents of time. Thou shall not seek beyond the outer gates," I finished.

Potter sat, looking stunned. "We have different laws, like the statute of secrecy. We also have the three unforgivable curses. The imperius curse takes over someone else's mind, the cruciatas curse, or the torture curse, and avada kedavra, the killing curse. Any of those earns a life sentence in Azkaban prison," Potter said.

"Huh. Prison. That's cute. Break one of our laws of magic and a Warden cuts your head

off," I said. Potter laughed at that one. "You think I'm kidding," I said, my face stony.

"You're serious? Your council actually has people to cut other people's heads off? How is that fair?" he asked.

"Because black magic corrupts the mind and heart, and leads to more uses. It's like a drug. It feels good to use. Never has a warlock been rehabilitated, at least as far as I know," I said quietly.

"Never in history," Bob confirmed.

Potter sat without speaking for a good minute.

"There was one wizard who turned evil, although 'turned' may not be the best term. His name was Tom Riddle, but he chose the name of Lord Voldemort. He was...terrible. He killed so many people. One of his followers killed my godfather. He killed my parents. I killed him. 19 years ago," Potter said.

"Ooh! Ooh! I remember you! Now I get it! You're that Boy Who Lived!" Bob said excitedly, actually making the phone bounce around the table. "Got hit with a kill spell and it bounced right off!"

"Erm, yeah, that was me. When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby," Potter said. "I almost wish your Wardens had found Voldemort instead."

"Yup, Wardens are pretty ruthless with

warlocks," said Bob cheerfully.

"Yes, Wardens like to get choppy with it. Obscurials, Bob. What do you know?" I asked.

If a phone could wince, Bob's would have.

"Oof," he said. "Nasty stuff there. An obscurial is a young wizard that has a parasitic creature inside them, which is born when that wizard suppresses their power due to trauma. Abuse a young wizardling to the point they're afraid to use their magic, and that internal magical force ends up becoming kinda sentient, which is an Obscurus. The obscurus rages out of the obscurial when the obscurial loses control. Wicked dangerous. It's a blast of pure dark magical horsepower," said Bob.

"How do I stop it?" I asked.

"You duck and cover until they burn out," said Bob simply. "Not much else you can do. Most end up self-destructing like Renfields around nine or ten years old. The ones that don't, well. Nothing much works against them except for killing the obscurial."

"That's basically what I know about them," Potter said. "Richter, he's obsessed with them. He wants to build an army of obscurials. He kidnaps children, hurts them, makes them afraid of their magic. If they don't become obscurials, he kills them. He needs to be stopped. And I don't really care if it's a Warden, that Mab, you, or prison. He needs to answer for his crimes," Potter said, his breath bursting from his lips in thick plumes.

Thick plumes? It wasn't that cold yet. And the restaurant had been warm just a minute ago. I looked out the window, and saw that the autumn sunshine was blotted out by fast moving clouds. I started to feel uneasy, anxious. It made me feel like I had all those times things had gone catastrophically wrong. It felt like Edinburgh, when I was bound, gagged, and hooded, waiting for a Warden's blade to-

"Dresden!" I heard Potter call. My mind snapped back to reality, and I realized an evil, black magic was invading my mind. I rallied my mental defenses. This was different from anything I had ever felt before. It was preying on the worst moments of my life. I locked my mind behind an impenetrable wall of thought and will, and the effect stopped immediately. Potter looked shaky, but alright otherwise. Butters was pale and sweaty, but he had an empty salt shaker gripped tightly in his hand, one of his fingers bleeding. He had thrown up a magic circle to protect himself.

"Harry, what the hell is this?" I asked.

"Dem-gah-dementors!" Potter managed to choke out. "We've got to get them away."

"Bob?" I asked.

"Demonic spirits that thrive on misery and dread. Ghosts of phobophages. They drive you insane with your worst memories and feed on your fear and dread. Oh, and they suck out your soul, too," Bob said.

"Shit. Alright, protect Butters. Keep them off of him. C'mon Harry. Let's go deal with them," I said.

We left the table and headed outside. I ran to Butters' car and grabbed my staff, pouring my will into it. The runes glowed brightly. Potter had his wand out, looking around warily. I moved to him and we stood back to back, scanning our surroundings. I heard it first, a choking, rasping sound coming towards me. From around the restaurant it came. It was almost as tall as I was, gliding a few inches over the blacktop. As it approached, it reached a slimy, dead looking hand out towards me. I shook my shield bracelet out from the sleeve of the leather duster I had grabbed from my apartment earlier, and forced will through it. The dementor struck my shield and bounced off, leaving a blue dome of energy surrounding us. As it tried to retreat, I trained my blasting rod on it and shouted, "Fuego!". A bolt of white hot fire lanced towards the creature, hitting it squarely. The dementor let out an inhuman shriek and flew away, fire scorching its cloak. More were closing in. I readied my staff and channeled some Soulfire infused magic and shouted "Ventas Servitas!". A glad force wind lanced out and pushed the oncoming dementors away, but they turned back and charged us again, the overcooked one rejoining its fellows.

"Harry! Running out ideas here!" I shouted.

He turned and aimed his wand at the oncoming horde. He concentrated for a moment, then shouted "Expecto Patronum!". A mass of silvery white light erupted from the top of his wand and took the shape of an enormous deer-like creature, which charged the dementors, scattering them like a stone would a school of fish. The light chased down the remaining ones, slamming into them with its horns. When it made contact, the light form sent the creature spinning, until all of them had retreated.

I looked at him. "Hell's bells," I whispered. I had hit them with some of my best shots, and they barely reacted. One spell from Potter had sent them running. Or flying.

"The Patronus charm. It's the only thing that repels dementors," Potter said. "I'm more concerned with where they came from. Since Voldemort died, the dementors have become all but extinct."

"That's nice," I said. All I care about is the why? Why did they attack us?" I asked.

"Richter," said Potter. "We had heard rumors that he was gathering them, but I thought it was just hearsay."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was interrupted by Butters, who came running out of the Burger King, phone in hand.

"Maggie's school," he whispered. "Bob picked it up through the police blotter on the net. Some kind of disturbance."

"Oh, hell," I breathed. "Potter, we've gotta go!" I shouted to him as we sprinted for Butters' car.

The drive was easy for Chicago, and Maggie's school was close. We got there before any of the lights and sirens. We parked in visitor parking and made our way to the building.

"Wait, Harry. School security. They aren't just going to let us in there," said Butters. He had a point.

"I know a spell," said Potter. He tapped each of us on the year with his wand. It felt like a thick fluid was running down my head, covering me. When I looked down, I realized he had veiled us.

"Glad you can do it, because I suck at veils," I said.

"Disillusionment charm," came Potter's voice. "Shall we?"

"We shall," I said.

The chameleon form of Potter moved towards Butters, but he stepped back.

"Not this time, Harry," he said. "There's someplace else I need to be."

"Butters, what-" I started, but was interrupted by a thought. "Uriel?"

"Fidelacchius," he said. "It's weird. I know I'm supposed to be someplace else."

The Sword of Faith was a pretty powerful thing, and if it, Uriel, or capital-G God were telling him that he had somewhere else to be, I wouldn't argue. Last time the sword was taken into a fight it didn't belong in, we had almost lost it.

"Alright Butters. Good luck. See you on the other side," I said. "Ready, Harry?"

The side door was locked, but Potter waved his wand at it and whispered, "Alomohora," and the door clicked open. We slipped inside. The hallways were dark. Even the emergency lights were off. A security guard lay on the floor, his unblinking eyes staring up at the ceiling. I knelt down to check for a pulse and found none. So it was going to be this kind of game. This bastard wasn't leaving alive. The Winter Mantle agreed with this assessment as I called on it to help us track Richter.

We made our way down the darkened and deserted hallways, our ears alert for any sound.

"Stop," I whispered. I diverted all my attention to my hearing, and I Listened. Listening isn't really magical, so much as a physical discipline. I heard whimpering children, adults shushing, and what I was hoping for: footsteps. Brisk and directed, but not very close to us.

"This way," I said, hauling ass towards the sound of the footsteps. Potter took off after me, but being almost 7 feet tall, I had a hell of a stride. That, and I had the Winter Mantle working for me, so Potter got left behind.

As I rounded another corner, I heard it. A beastly bark that caused my body to shoot out adrenaline. It shook the building, and I heard the Obscurials shriek. Mouse. His bark had special properties. He had once cleared an entire high rise apartment building by barking. I charged for the source of the barks, heading down yet another darkened hallway.

Richter stood in front of a closed door, wand out. Mouse's bark had halted him. He looked uncertain. The obscurials were hovering next to him. A perfect shot.

I flung myself from behind the wall and unleashed a blast of Winter at them. At the last second, Richter waved his wand and yelled, "Protego!". My blast slammed into his shield, but some of it managed to get through. Richter slid backwards, but still kept that superior smirk. That was what did it. I dropped my staff and charged, gathering Winter to myself as I ran full-tilt towards them. The mantle warned me just as one of the Obscurials lashed out, terrified into action by my charge. I dodged to the side and hurled a blast of Winter at it, catching it full force and blowing it down the hall. As I closed in on Richter and the other, I triggered my new force rings. Like the old ones, they stored a portion of kinetic energy every time I moved my arms. I hadn't used them yet, so they were fully charged. I aimed one of them are the floor and uttered the command word. Raw force lashed out, striking the floor in front of the second obscurial. A portion of the energy bounced off the floor and caught the obscurial in the chest, slamming it upward into the ceiling. It fell to the floor, limp and unmoving, but that didn't matter to me. My main quarry was within distance, so I pulled back my right arm and gathered Winter again, freezing it into a blunt hammering weapon. My punch was on track to cave in Richter's face. He raised his wand to deliver one last pitiful spell, but nothing he could throw at me would save his worthless life.

"Crucio!" he screamed.

Every nerve ending in my body exploded in white hot, agonizing, hellish pain. I fell flat on my face, convulsing, as Richter stepped aside, his wand on me. The agony was awful. It hurt, God, it hurt so much. Like when my hand had been melted with napalm, but worse, oh my God, so much worse. The mantle was no help, it had never dealt with this kind if assault. I was sure I would die any second, and this torture would continue for eternity in hell…

...Then it was over. Richter took his wand away from me, sending blasts of magic down the hallway. Harry Potter was at the other end of the hall, deflecting Richter's spells and sending his own back. Richter waved his wand at a row of lockers. The metal doors flew off and merged together into the shape of a snake, which charged at Potter. Potter waved his own wand, and the metal snake rusted and crumbled into dust, then waved his wand again at a nearby water fountain. Water sprayed forth and formed into a ball, which enveloped Richter, drowning him. Richter spun and disappeared, reappearing next to the Obscurial I had hit with Winter Ice, and then disappeared once more, leaving the other lying motionless on the floor.

Potter came running up to me. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Been better," I croaked. That torture curse was well named. I reached over to the Obscurial. I hadn't meant to hit it that hard. Looking closer, I could see she was a girl of about 12 years. She was crying, but she wore a manic smile. She turned her head to look at me, right in the eyes. I felt the soulgaze begin, and I didn't stop it.

Soulgazes occur when a person locks eyes with a wizard. You see them, and they see you, in every sense. Nothing is hidden from the other party. Nothing is held back. I saw the little girl, bound with strands of black, cold energy. Fear. She was bound by her fear. In front of her was a glowing orb, that she was desperately trying to get away from. I realized it was her magic I was seeing. She turned her eyes to me and uttered the word please. Over and over again. As I looked at her, I saw handprints appear on her face, arms, legs, and back. Burn marks appeared, smoldered, healed, and reappeared indiscriminately. Thin, angry red lines appeared on the soles of her feet, as though they were being whipped. With every injury, black smoke gathered around her. I had seen enough. With an effort of will, I pulled myself away from the gaze.

When I came out if it, the little girl was looking at me. Most people look terrified. Susan had actually fainted. But she looked relieved.

"Thank you," she murmured, black smoke leaking out of her body. The Obscurus. It was dying with her. She took one last rattling breath, and exhaled peacefully, then she was gone.

I stared at her for a few minutes. Her final expression was one of relief. She had been released from the grip of her nightmare and the parasite. That's all that kept me from breaking down. I had just killed a child.

"Harry," said a rough voice. "Harry, it's Rawlins. C'mon now, let's get outta here."

End of Part One.


End file.
